Hunters, Gatherers, and Conjurers
by Majesta Moniet
Summary: When Tessa arrives at Camp Half-Blood, all her hopes and expectations are riding on a warm bed and her first full night's rest in weeks. What she get's instead is a scratchy sleeping bag and a predawn encounter with a boy who seems more moonlight than mortal. Jem/Tessa PJO AU


**AN:** This story is for my lovely Jace, **Justine**. Happy birthday, bb! And I hope you enjoy your present. :)

Also, I'll admit up front that I am new to the PJO fandom, and I've only gotten through the first two books. So I apologize if anything in this fic is problematic with PJO canon established from the third book on. **Angel Gidget** was kind enough to beta and let me know if I made any big slip-ups. Thank you!

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_Hunters, Gatherers, and Conjurers_

When Tessa stumbles up the crest of Half-Blood Hill for the first time, it's so dark that she almost walks into the trunk of a giant pine tree. Sophie—the young satyr girl who has been Tessa's constant companion for the last two weeks—steers Tessa around a few of the low-hanging branches. There's just enough ocean and just enough moonlight glinting off the waves for Tessa to make out the shape of the valley below.

The curiosity that has burned inside Tessa since narrowly escaping the first monster is now tempered by three nights of sleeping on the ground and half-a-dozen meals from vending machines. The question she most wants answered is, _Where can I find a bed?_

Sophie leads her down the sloping grass without a word of welcome or congratulations. Maybe she's as tired as Tessa, or maybe even reaching the safety of a mythical camp for demigods isn't enough to dispel the girl's reticence. For once, Tessa doesn't mind her companion's reserved nature. They're alive, and for that Tessa owes Sophie her life.

They pass a variety of large, shadowy buildings but no other people. The camp is silent in a way the city never is. It makes Tessa feel even more tired—even closer to the dream world. When Sophie tells her to wait at the bottom of some wooden steps, Tessa's reminded of words from one of her favorite childhood books: "You know that place between sleeping and awake, that place where you can still remember dreaming? That's where I'll always think of you."

For a moment—just a moment—Tessa thinks about her brother. She thinks of Nate reading _Peter Pan_ aloud before she was old enough to read it herself. He used different voices for all the characters, and his Captain Hook was her favorite—a Jersey accent that turned Italian whenever Pan managed to get the better of him _again_. His Mrs. Darling voice always made her laugh so loud Aunt Harriet would come remind them they were supposed to be asleep.

Then Tessa thinks about her brother's voice the last time she had spoken to him. Two weeks ago, he sounded livid and desperate. He screamed at her and called her an abomination. He said that…

A light turns on, and Tessa raises a hand to shield her eyes from the glare. She blinks away the black spots and stares in surprise at the sight in front of her. Standing above her on the illuminated porch is a horse. No, not just a horse. The body of a horse attached to the torso of a man. A centaur, Tessa realizes. A centaur in a fluffy bathrobe.

He descends the steps in a single, fluid leap. Sophie follows with a quiet _clipclop clipclop clipclop_.

Tessa tries—and fails—not to stare as the centaur bows his head in greeting. "Welcome to Camp Half-Blood, Theresa Gray. My name is Chiron, and I'm the Activities Director."

A talking man-horse is hardly the strangest thing Tessa has encountered since leaving home. He looks a great deal kinder than the rabid minotaur, the Trojan zombie, and—especially—the giant squid. She shakes his hand.

Chiron smiles at the gesture and says something—several things, actually. Tessa's sure it's all very important, but she's swaying on her feet, and the only words that really make it through are: "….after Sophie has shown you to a cabin, and you've had some rest…"

Tessa nods vigorously.

With a _swish_ of his tail, Chiron is gone, and she and Sophie set off into the dark.

**/ - \\ / - \\ / - \\ / - \\ / - \\**

She should fall asleep the moment her head hits the pillow. (A pillow, an actual pillow!) But life doesn't seem to be any easier now that she's supposedly 'safe' in a fortified sanctuary built especially for people like her. Even surrounded by the serene snores of fellow half-bloods, she can't quite get her heart to settle in her chest. Every shifting body and stray sound makes her twitch in alarm. _Something_ is out there waiting to get her. And just because it's on the other side of a magical force field, doesn't mean she's safe. What if there are ways around the wards? What if a monster gets through? What if one already has? Should she really trust these strangers? What if it's all a trick? A trap to…

A new sound reaches Tessa ears. At first, it's so quiet that she wonders if she imagined it. But then it grows louder. It's music. Soft strains of beautiful music. Not the kind played on the radio, but something simpler—and immensely more complex. A violin.

Tessa sits up. The music must be coming from outside the cabin; there isn't enough between the crowded bunks to conceal a midnight performer. No one else is woken by the music, even though Tessa can hear it very clearly now. For several moments she's content to just sit and enjoy the skilled playing. The song is steady and graceful but too fast for a lullaby. She wonders why someone would play so late at night.

Soon, Tessa stands and carefully picks her way across a minefield of sleeping children and teenagers. Once she's out the door, it's easy to follow the music. She slips between two cabins and walks until her feet hit gravel. There, in the middle of a courtyard is a large, white stone fountain. The clouds that had obstructed the sky when she arrived, have cleared away to reveal bright handfuls of constellations. The light of the stars seems to shine directly on the top tier of the fountain, a stone Cupid statue that someone has adorned with a hula skirt and pink sunglasses. Water gushes from the bowl beneath Cupid's feet, and the sound of falling water is not loud enough to obscure the elegant notes of the violin.

At first, Tessa nearly mistakes him for another vandalized statue. The boy is as pale and pristine as the white stone he's sitting on—from his silvery hair to his smooth, white hands. But statues don't sway. They don't play violins with a soft and urgent grace that elicits the most ethereal of sounds.

Tessa notices that she is not the only one enjoying the music. There are creatures—small and womanly in stature—swirling and floating nearby. Their bodies, made of flowers and leaves, dance through the air with each back and forth of the bow. They laugh and move as if the music is what has brought them to life.

And when the playing stops, they fall to the ground in pieces, only to be buffeted away by the wind.

The boy opens his eyes, and Tessa discovers that they're as silver as the rest of him.

"Are you a god?"

His mouth opens in surprise. Tessa feels self-conscious standing in front of him, still dirty from her journey and dressed in Superman pajamas that Sophie had pulled from the lost-and-found. But her discomfort vanishes the moment he cocks his head to the side and smiles.

"No, I'm not a god." He glances up at the night sky. "Hubris, thankfully, is not one of my faults—as many as there are."

"Then you're a half-blood, like me?"

The boy stands up, and Tessa is surprised that he is taller than she is. (Not many boys are.) He offers the hand not holding the violin. "Yes. My name is James. But everyone here calls me Jem."

"Tessa." She shakes his hand, blushing when she has to push back the sleeve of her borrowed clothes. "The way you play…It's beautiful."

"I didn't mean to wake you."

"I wasn't sleeping."

"First nights are hard."

Tessa doesn't disagree. Although 'hard' doesn't even begin to describe the past two weeks of her life. Instead she takes the spot on the fountain wall that he had previously occupied. "Does it get easier? Does it get any less strange?"

"Being at camp? Or being a half-blood?"

"Both."

"Most campers are reluctant to leave by the end of their first summers." Jem sits down beside her. He's close enough that, if she wanted, Tessa could reach out and touch him. A sweet, smoky scent clung to his clothes. "But being a half-blood is never easy. We're tested until we draw our last breath. And there isn't always a reward for succeeding."

He says this without a hint of the resentment that's been steadily growing inside Tessa since the truth of her parentage was revealed. His acceptance makes her want to buckle, makes her want to shout, stomp her feet, and wave her hands. She wants to know _why her_? Why any of them?

Jem smiles again, only this time the gesture is sympathetic. "It takes time to get used to."

She can't help but think that he knows something she doesn't—that he knows several things she's been left in the dark about. She wishes she could ask him everything on her mind. "So what is this camp really? Is there actually a class on underwater basket weaving?"

**/ - \\ / - \\ / - \\ / - \\ / - \\**

According to Jem, Tessa is lucky that Sophie was the satyr sent to retrieve her. She has a perfect success rate and has escorted more nearly a dozen half-bloods to the camp.

"She's been up for a promotion more than once, but she always refuses to leave. She says helping children is the best way for her to serve the gods and help the Earth."

So when Tessa sees Sophie at breakfast the next morning, she wraps her arms around the startled satyr and doesn't let go until she feels Sophie hug her in return. "Thank you," Tessa says, "If there is anything I can ever do…"

"Learn," Sophie says and steps back. "Learn so that you can survive. Everything else comes with time."

When Tessa takes her seat at the Hermes table, she gets a handful of curious looks. Their interest in her died quickly that morning after learning that she was just another unclaimed refugee. At the most, she was competition for floor space at night.

"Alright, you sorry lot, the pot is open. Everyone, place your bets. Except for you, Strickland. You still owe me from your last two epic failures."

Tessa glances across the table, where a handsome, black-haired teen is holding out a cloth sack. When he juggles it in his palm, it emits a soft jangling of coins. His Welsh accent, in addition to the stunning blue of his eyes, makes him impossible to ignore.

"Personally, my coin is on Athena," he rattles on as other campers begin dropping golden drachmas into his purse. Each coin is accompanies by the name of a god: Apollo, Demeter, Hermes. "She's a reader. Brought an entire bloody library in her rucksack. Plus, we all know Athena couldn't have been celibate for three years running. A celibate god is a cranky god. Just ask Artemis."

A strong wind whips across the table with enough force to overturn several empty glasses. Tessa leans forward. "Excuse me. What are you doing?"

"Taking bets." The boy hastily snatches a coin from a young girl before she can change her mind about turning it over. "We're all burning with curiosity to know which god or goddess wanked your mom or dad. Was it the wise Athena? (Although, apparently not that wise if she can't remember to wrap it up.) Or perhaps,"—he reaches out and takes Tessa's hand from where it's resting on the tabletop—"the lovely Aphrodite?"

The brush of his mouth against her skin is like the burn of a lit match. Face flushed, she yanks her hand away. "_You_ are...are…"

He winks over a cheeky smile. "Will Herondale."

A true son of Hermes, she thinks as he tucks away his heavy bag of coin. "Your father must be proud," she mutters.

Will snorts. "Not bloody likely."

"Isn't he the God of thieves?"

"You're mistaken. I'm as unclaimed and unwanted as you are." He rocks back on the bench. "Officially anyway."

Tessa doesn't get a chance to question him further. A dryad brings out a tray of vegetables, and it takes all of Will's concentration to shamelessly flirt with her.

**/ - \\ / - \\ / - \\ / - \\ / - \\**

"Don't let Will deceive you," Jem tells her as he pulls the oar back through the water. He had been absent at breakfast that morning but kept his promise to meet her at the head table afterwards. Chiron was quick to agree that Jem would be a suitable tour guide and put him in charge of showing Tessa the ropes. The camp director, Mr. D, had only smoothed down his comb over in disinterest. Now, after visiting the climbing wall, Tessa and Jem are in a canoe heading for the stables.

Tessa glances back over her shoulder at Jem. "Deceive me?"

"He's twice as decent as he lets on."

Tessa doesn't voice her doubts. "What did he mean when he said he isn't officially claimed?"

Jem sighs. He seems more human in the daylight. His eyes and hair are still that remarkable silver, but he doesn't seem to…_shine_ the way he had the previous night. Where the moon washed him of color and imperfections, the sun bringst a warm flush to his face and dampens his temples with sweat. He maneuvers the canoe with expert technique. Tessa does her best not to feel too inept and follows his lead.

"According to Will," Jem says, "he's the son of Mr. D. He claims the sign appeared above Will when nobody else was around to see it. Mr. D says otherwise. Of course, Will says Mr. D is too jealous to admit that he has a son more attractive and more, er, charming than his father."

"You don't believe Will."

"Well, he can be overwhelmingly charming." Jem smiles affectionately—the way Nate used to smile whenever he caught a much younger Tessa using permanent marker to write her own books on the pages of his Sports Illustrated. "But we all cope with our pasts in different ways."

"Who do you think his father is?"

"I don't know. And I don't think Will really wants to know. He hates the idea of ever being indebted to anybody."

Tessa stops paddling and twists around in her seat. "But how could he not want to know where he comes from? His family? His history?"

"Knowing who your parents are doesn't necessarily make them family."

It's only then that Tessa realizes Jem hasn't told her about _his_ parents. Last night she'd been so tired, and he'd been so forthcoming about everything else. He answered all her silly questions and never once acted offended by her ignorance. It was the first real comfort she had felt since leaving home.

"Jem?"

"Hm?"

"Who's claimed you? Which cabin is yours?"

Jem lifts his oar from the water and rests it across his knees. For several moments they drift aimlessly. The bow turns off course. His silence fills Tessa with guilt. She's asked something she shouldn't have. It's one her incurable habits. She opens her mouth to apologize, but Jem takes up his paddle and resumes rowing.

"Let me show you something."

**/ - \\ / - \\ / - \\ / - \\ / - \\**

After they drag their boat up onto the beach, he leads her toward the horseshoe of cabins located in a hilly slump of the valley. In the daylight, it's harder not to stare at the varied, flamboyant structures. Each one is a tribute to the god it represents, and Tessa can appreciate the subtle differences. It's like looking at a picture book; each cabin tells part of a story—a story that Tessa has somehow found herself a part of. She didn't get a look at them all that morning, and, now, seeing one after the other, she begins to sense the significance of her surroundings. This camp is not a place where stories go to end; it's where they come to begin.

They've walked past nearly all of the cabins, when Jem stops in the entryway of one built from elegant stone.

"This is my mother's house."

The cabin is narrow and rectangular, with tall, pristine columns wrapped with garlands of flowers and pomegranates, which give off a sweet smell. The outer walls—embellished with engravings of majestic peacocks—are windowless. But the doorway is open, allowing an unobstructed view of the statue inside. It's a rendering of a tall, graceful woman with an emotionless face. Despite the presence of a fire at the statue's feet, cold air pours out the door as if someone had turned the A/C to max and then left it running.

Tessa reaches out to touch one of the sparkling columns, but then inexplicably feels the need to draw away at the last moment. "This is…"

"Hera's cabin," Jem finishes, his voice soft and almost strained.

"There aren't any beds."

"No. She's the goddess of marriage. She doesn't have affairs with mortal men."

Tessa looks at him. She wishes she knew him well enough to understand what is in his eyes as he stares at the statue of Hera. There is something beneath his calm—a composure belied by the tense set of his shoulders. "But you…"

"Pregnancy isn't the same for the gods as it is for mortals. No one knew Hera was expecting a child. She kept it a secret from everyone but Artemis."

"Artemis? But why?"

"She's the goddess of childbirth. Not even Hera could hide a pregnancy from her."

"And Artemis kept you a secret?"

"After I was born, Artemis had me brought here. For protection."

"From Zeus?"

The sky rumbles.

Jem doesn't answer. He turns from Hera's cabin. "I wasn't a secret for more than a day. Zeus found out from Mr. D, and my mother fell out of favor for a time. She'll never openly claim me, of course. That would be further insult to Zeus. So I stay in Artemis' cabin. Unless the Hunters are in residence, of course." He indicates a cabin near one end of the horseshoe, a cabin with silver, billowing curtains. He smiles wryly. "I guess you could say I'm Mount Olympus' worst kept secret."

"Jem…" Tessa feels at a loss for words. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be. It isn't the saddest story you'll hear around here. A lot of campers are never claimed, and they never know who their mother or father is."

"So you've lived here your entire life?"

His smile turns genuine. "Don't sound so alarmed. It's hardly been a life-sentence in Azkaban."

Tessa perks up. "You've read _Harry Potter_?"

"_You_'ve read Harry Potter? I've seen the movies—all of them five times each."

**/ - \\ / - \\ / - \\ / - \\ / - \\**

Learning the ropes at Camp Half-Blood ends up requiring all of Tessa's time and energy. Through trial and error she quickly learns her weaknesses—sword fighting, metallurgy, and horseback riding—and her strengths—gardening, archery, and history and strategy. Will, it turns out, is good at _everything_ (except for the camp sing-a-longs). He's especially talented at riling up the younger campers and driving the older ones to madness. On the hottest day in July, he insists on climbing the lava wall in only his underwear. Tessa has never seen so many people willing to stand in the path falling magma—just to look up and admire the spectacle of the feat being performed. Will only ever behaves when Jem is around, and even then it's the minimal effect of a tall fence stabling a wild stallion; the containment is temporary.

During the day, Tessa's so concerned with skinned knees, second degree burns, and Ancient Greek that she doesn't have time to think about Nate or Aunt Harriet.

But then night comes. She finds herself lying on the floor of Hermes' cabin with nothing but a flashlight and five books she's nearly memorized. Then, when it's quiet, there aren't any monsters to battle or any of Will's provoking remarks to deflect, and the silence invites other thoughts to Tessa's mind.

She's plagued by images of the last time she saw her brother. She sees Nate, wide-eyed and disheveled. It was six months after Aunt Harriet's death, and Nate was Tessa's acting legal guardian. The two of them still lived in New York, but they had moved into a smaller apartment (a boxy one-bedroom so close to the subway that the windows rattled every time a train went by). That night Nate came home late from work—he _always_ came home late from work—and Tessa had cooked dinner and made sure the apartment was clean. Nate was working long, hard hours doing construction, and he'd been more irritable lately, so Tessa wanted him to be able to relax at home. But that night he came home smelling like rubbing alcohol and sulfur. Tessa remembers jumping to her feet. She remembers the look in his eyes as he watched her approach—the look of someone assessing an intruder in his home.

Tessa turned onto her side, willing the image away. When that doesn't work, she peels back the sleeping bag and slips on her sandals.

**/ - \\ / - \\ / - \\ / - \\ / - \\**

She can always count on finding Jem in Aphrodite's courtyard. The fountain is brightest place in camp after dark. Even though it's against the rules for students to break curfew, Tessa has found that there are some camp rules that Jem is exempt from. It might be his seniority and the fact that he's been at Camp Half-Blood longer than any of the counselors. But Tessa suspects that it has more to do with how much everyone seems to like Jem. Charlotte, the Hermes cabin counselor, always invites Jem to join their group activities and Henry, the half-blood who runs the forge, always insists on showing Jem his latest creations. Even Mr. D, who doesn't like anybody, pretends Jem is invisible instead of dealing barbed insults. Jem is unfailingly gracious toward them all.

Tonight, he's not playing the violin. He's sitting at the fountain, legs stretched out across the stone ledge and shoulders bent as he inspects something cupped in his hands. Tessa glances are around, checking for Will. Sometimes, he would join them in the courtyard. More often than not, he was out gallivanting on his own crusade while avoiding the always-hungry harpies.

When it's clear that she and Jem are alone, Tessa lets out a small breath. She likes spending time with Will—when he isn't mercilessly pushing her buttons—but Jem has a more soothing effect on his own. He never asks why she can't sleep and doesn't press her for information about her family. He just accepts her company as if she were exactly where she's meant to be.

"I have something for you."

Tessa draws closer. "Oh?"

"Yes, and you won't believe what I had to do to get it." He hands her a book. It's a hardback stripped of its cover jacket. Tessa recognizes the author immediately.

"John Green! And it's his newest one. I didn't have time to get it before…" She looks at Jem. "Thank you. How did you know?"

Jem shrugs a shoulder. His cheeks are pink. "I remember you mentioning him. I admit I tried reading a bit, but I don't have your patience."

Tessa understands. It's hard for half-bloods to read languages that aren't Greek. The letters don't settle right on the page. Each book Tessa reads is a labor of love. It used to be that Nate would read to her aloud. When he started going to grade school, Tessa had to learn to read on her own. At sixteen she still struggles, but the challenge is always worth it. Because, in the end, books makes sense—even when the real world doesn't.

Tessa hugs the novel to her chest and props herself up at Jem's side. "So what did it take?" Because no one reads, novels are hard to come by at camp.

"I can't ever leave here, so it's important that I know people on the Outside. They smuggle me things like coat hangers and toilet paper."

"And Harry Potter movies."

"Don't say that too loud. Chiron still doesn't know."

Tessa laughs. She's glad she couldn't sleep.

"Let's just say,"—Jem swings his legs off the side of fountain—"that in the morning, Will might be wondering where his stash of trashy magazines has gone."

**/ - \\ / - \\ / - \\ / - \\ / - \\**

Some things happen to a person all at once. Some things come in bits and pieces so small, that the person can't see the change until the dust has settled into skyscrapers.

The first time Jem and Tessa hold hands is on the way back from a bonfire. The night is warm and dark, and somehow, as they walk side-by-side, their pinkies brush and hook together. Tessa thinks it's an accident until the rest of their fingers follow suit, and their palms, sticky with from the s'mores they ate, curve together perfectly.

Neither of them remembers their first kiss as a kiss at all. It happens in broad daylight in the middle of a crowd of rowdy campers. During lunch someone snuck into Aphrodite's cabin and doused every mirror and reflective surface with thick layers of black paint. Aphrodite's children are on a rampage; Jessamine Lovelace is demanding the blood of the perpetrator. The rest of the camp is in an uproar of laughter and 'mirror, mirror' jokes. Jem and Tessa turn to each other at the same moment to ask the same question: _Where's Will?_ The brush of their lips is brief and accidental and completely overshadowed by Will's swooping in on a Pegasus, black paint smeared on his cheek and a mad gleam in his eye. "Now," he declares, "you see your souls for what they truly are!"

The first time Jem sees Tessa cry, she's just read the final page of John Green's book. Finishing a novel is always a bittersweet accomplishment for Tessa, but for whatever reason, this ending ways on her more heavily than other. It feels, inexplicably, like the last good book she'll ever read. Jem finds her sobbing softly in the shade of Thalia's tree. He places a hand on the back of her neck, his fingers feather-light as they move against her skin.

"A sad ending?" he asks.

"No," she cries. "Well, yes, but it was perfect. Everything about it hurt the way it should." Tessa rubs at her face. "But it isn't real, is it? In the real world, the suffering isn't ever worth it. Pain is mindless. There's no reason for…"

"Tessa—"

"Why did he betray me!" Tessa shouts. She flushes red, and it's a mix of anger, embarrassment, and frustration. "We're family, and he loved me."

Jem's hold on her tightens.

"He was going to sell me to Hades. So he could pay a debt." She shudders. "He was all I had left in the world and he…didn't want me."

Jem's arms go around her, and she sinks into the familiarity of his body—the sweet scent that clings to his hair, the bony angle of his hip, the heat of his chest. "I'm sorry that he hurt you," he murmurs against her hair. "I wish that he was here. I wish he could see what he's done."

Tessa shakes her head, although she doesn't know what she's denying.

"But maybe it wasn't completely mindless. Maybe he had to hurt you so that you'd end up here. Maybe this is where you belong. Maybe suffering will make you stronger."

His words—the sound of them, the cadence of their implication—seep into her like a salve. Inch-by-inch her body relaxes until she's limp and heavy against Jem's side. She hooks her fingers in the worn collar of his camp t-shirt. "Jem?"

He angles his face to look down at her. From here, she can admire the taught muscles in his neck and the faint shadows cast by his eyelashes. Tessa smiles. This is the first kiss that they'll remember.

The first time they exchange the words "I love you" neither of them thinks it's too soon or too naïve.

The first time Tessa realizes something is terribly wrong, it's too late. The dust has settled, and this is the closest she's ever been to the stars. Jumping now would kill her.

**/ - \\ / - \\ / - \\ / - \\ / - \\**

Capture the flag isn't Tessa's favorite camp activity. But while she sticks to the shadows and does her best to avoid being seen, Tessa makes sure to pull her own weight. She's always been a team player, and she hates the idea of letting Charlotte and her other cabin members down. So she builds traps along the back quarter of their boundary line. This week, Athena's children are allied to the other team. Tessa knows that one of their younger campers has an invisibility cap and that she likes to sneak in and take the flag from behind. Tessa doesn't plan on letting her succeed.

Tessa is carefully laying down foliage to conceal a sinkhole, when she hears a _splash_ muffled by the density of the woods. Twenty yards over the next hill is a creek. Tessa picks her way through the trees and conceals herself behind one of the thick trunks. A deep breath later, she risks a glance around the other side. What she sees makes her gasp.

"Jem!"

A summer's worth of training leaves her in an instant. Without any regard for her own safety, she darts out from behind the tree and down the slope into the creek bed. Jem is kneeling there in the shallow water. He's bowed over, one hand clutching at his chest and the other braced against the gravel, supporting his weight. Tessa sloshes through the stream and crouches down beside him.

"Jem, what happened? Are you hurt?"

He shakes his head but says nothing. Or maybe he does say something, but Tessa can't hear it over the sound of his ragged breathing.

"Here, let me." She takes his hand from his chest, but there's nothing there. No wound or blood on his leather armor. And then he looks up at her. He looks up, and his hair falls away to reveal his pale, drawn face patterned with blood. Red flecks on his lips and cheeks. A steady stream from his nose. His pupils are so wide they've swallowed the color of his eyes. "I don't—"

Something blunt and powerful strikes Tessa between her shoulder blades. She grunts in pain and twists around to see an Aphrodite boy streaking forward with a cry of triumph. Tessa doesn't stop to think. She plucks a heavy stone from the water and throws it as hard as she can. It catches the boy in the neck, sending him flying onto his back.

"Nice shot, Tess!"

Will appears seemingly out of nowhere. He's ruffled but in good spirits. Tessa spares him a desperate glance. "Help me!"

Will's smile fades. She knows he sees Jem, who's started to slump sideways into the creek. A moment later, Will is at Jem's other side, helping to steady him. Will takes one look at Jem and says, "We need to get him nectar and ambrosia."

"No," Jem grunts, and Tessa's relieved to hear him speak. His whole body shudders. "I don't need—"

"Jem, don't be daft. You need—"

Tessa yanks the flare off of Will's belt. She pulls the tail, and sparks shoot up into the air, rocketing past the treetops and into the evening sky. For e few seconds, everything is cast in an eerie, red glow. Will keeps talking. It's half-Welsh, half-swear words, and she doesn't bother trying to make sense of it. She holds onto Jem and wipes the blood from his face until she can hear the pounding of approaching hooves.

**/ - \\ / - \\ / - \\ / - \\ / - \\**

Jem is carried on a stretcher to the Big House. When they arrive, Charlotte stops Will and Tessa from accompanying him inside.

"But I was there when he was hurt," Tessa protests. "What if he needs me?"

"He's asked that you wait out here."

Tessa's mouth opens silently. She's too stung to manage any words.

Charlotte pats her shoulder awkwardly. "I'll let you know when you can see him."

"But, Charlotte—"

"I'm sorry, Tessa."

Will is uncharacteristically quiet. He sags against the porch railing, arms crossed and head bowed. Tessa watches him as she settles at the table where Chiron and Mr. D usually play pinochle.

"What was that?"

Will doesn't look at her. "Hm?"

"In the woods. What happened?"

"What happened? You nailed Gabriel Lightwood with a rock. _That_'s what happened. I'll never forget the look on his face or the sound he made as his legs and arms flailed in the air. That bugger's always been a little worm."

"What happened to _Jem_?"

"…"

"_Will_…"

"He didn't want you to know. At least, not yet." Will sighs and pushes his hands through his hair. "But I suppose it's too late for all of that."

Tessa tries her best to be patient.

Finally, Will lifts his head to look at her from beneath the black fringe of his bangs. "He's sick, Tessa. He's been sick his entire life, and it's only getting worse."

A roar of cheers sounds in the distance. The game must be over. Tessa doesn't care who's won. "Sick how?"

"No one knew that Hera was pregnant with Jem. She kept it a secret."

"Jem told me."

"And she wanted him to stay a secret. She never wanted anyone to know what she'd done." Will pauses, giving Tessa a meaningful look.

She stares back, not comprehending.

Will bites his lip and pushes off of the railing. He paces back and forth in agitation. "So she went to the goddess Hecate and asked for a special potion, something that could strip a god of his powers."

Tessa vaguely recalls reading about Hecate. She's a goddess most closely associated with sorcery, medicine, and crossroads. She was a popular patron goddess in ancient Greece. Tessa can't recall whether or not she was a goddess to be feared.

"Hecate did as she asked even though Hera refused to tell her who the potion was intended for. Hera is known for her jealousy, and Hecate assumed, that she would use it on one of Zeus's conquests. What she didn't know was that Hera planned on using it to strip Jem of his immortal lineage. When he was born, Hera tried to make him nurse him from the vial. But he wouldn't drink no matter what she tried. Finally, she resorted to pouring the potion into a lake, and there she tried to drown him.

Tessa gasps, staring at Will in horror. "But he was her own son. How could she—"

"The Gods aren't humans. They have their own set of rules. The own morals." Will sounds as disgusted as Tessa feels.

She can't imagine it. She can't imagine holding a child in her arms and then holding him underwater until he stops breathing. How anyone—god or not—could justify that to herself…

"She didn't succeed, of course. Artemis stopped her before he died. But she didn't get to Jem before he'd ingested some of the polluted lake water. The poison has been inside of him ever since that day. It weakens him little-by-little, stealing the strength and power that makes him a demigod. Nectar and ambrosia slow it down, but…"

"The more human he becomes, the more harmful the food and drink of the gods becomes. He's fighting one poison with another." Saying it aloud makes it frighteningly real. Tessa braces her hands against the table as the porch seems to swim beneath her. What had Jem told her about suffering being worth something? That pain has a purpose?

What purpose was there for _his_ pain and suffering?

Tessa takes a steadying breath. "Is he dying?"

Will stops pacing. "The only reason Zeus hasn't struck Jem down is because he wants Hera to watch him fall apart piece-by-piece. If he weren't dying, he'd already be dead."

It's then that Tessa understands how the gods must view mortals, even their own offspring. To them, mortals are just creatures born to die—each person a flash of light bound to fade as quickly as it came into being. And they've seen a thousand flashes, a million flickers. And the gods just sit back and admire them the way that mortals admire the stars. Collectively the lights are intriguing, even beautiful. But what does it matter if one light is extinguished quicker than it should, when there will be another light to take its place?

**/ - \\ / - \\ / - \\ / - \\ / - \\**

Around midnight, Argus comes to escort Tessa and Will back to Hermes' Cabin. Charlotte tells them that Jem has fallen asleep and that he'll need his rest if he's to make a full recovery. Tessa goes reluctantly, her feet as heavy as her heart. But when she crawls into her sleeping bag, she goes straight to sleep. She dreams of an endless field, a place so vast and so flat that it's impossible to hide from the sun. Even her body does not cast a shadow. She sees Jem in the distance. He's standing with his back to her, and even though his hair is black instead of silver, she knows that it's him. She calls his name, but he doesn't turn around. She walks toward him, but the closer she gets, the farther away he is. She calls his name until she loses her voice, but he doesn't hear her.

**/ - \\ / - \\ / - \\ / - \\ / - \\**

When Tessa leaves for breakfast that morning, she finds Jem waiting outside the cabin door. She's startled to see him on his feet so soon after the previous night. Save for the shadows beneath his eyes and the presence of the ornate walking stick in his hand, he looks to be in perfect health. But Tessa remembers what Will told her about the nectar and ambrosia. And she now knows that the sterling quality of his hair and eyes (features she's always thought of as beautiful) is a manifest symptom of the poison at work in his body.

She walks right up to Jem and wraps his arms around him as tightly as she can. Unlike yesterday, he is able to return the embrace.

"I was so worried about you."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

"It isn't your fault. None of this is your fault."

"But I should have told you."

Tessa laughs even though she's fighting off tears. "Well, yes. That part _is_ your fault."

"I never realized how much of a coward I was until I met you."

Tessa cranes her head back to look him in the eyes. "You are not a coward, Jem Carstairs. I don't think there's ever been a hero tested the way you are. You've been fighting for 17 years, and you're still alive. If anyone doubts your bravery, including yourself, I want you to direct them to me."

He squeezes her—hard. It should hurt, but all she can think about is kissing him, and once she's doing that, there isn't a hurt big enough in the world that could stop her.

**/ - \\ / - \\ / - \\ / - \\ / - \\**

Tessa spends a week relentlessly pursuing an end to Jem's predicament. She pours over ancient scrolls procured by Chiron. She plays pinochle with Mr. D just for the chance to ask him questions about Hecate ("Now, that's one superstitious brawd. A total stick in the mud. Don't think you can distract me that easily, Tina."). She consults Henry and his inventions. She raids Demeter's garden and brews every remedy she's every read about. She even prays to Hera for help.

Jem must endure the brunt of Tessa's ferocity. She questions him relentlessly about his illness—about the symptoms and about what measures he's taken to fight the poison off. He answers all of her questions and doesn't try to discourage her. But Tessa understands what goes unsaid: he doesn't believe there's a cure, but he loves her for trying so hard.

"How do you feel when you wake up first thing in the morning?"

"Tired. Slow. Heavy. And then I have some ambrosia, and I'm fine for the rest of the day."

"You weren't fine during capture the flag."

"Sometimes I have…episodes. When the immortal food and drink become too much for me, my body rejects it."

"How often do you have an episode?"

"They used to be rare. They've become more common as I've gotten older. I've had four this summer alone."

"What would happen if you were to stop taking nectar and ambrosia?"

"You mean, if I were to let the poison do its work?"

"Well…yes."

"I would become completely mortal."

"And would that be so terrible?" This is question that now keeps Tessa up at night. Images of her vengeful brother have been replaced by images of Jem, young and dying as he lies on a bed taking his last breaths. "Is it really worth your life?"

"I know it might be difficult for you to understand," he says gently. "You grew up in the mortal world. It's how you defined yourself for 16 years. But I grew up here. Camp Half-Blood is the only home I've ever known, and if I become mortal, I'll have to leave it. I will be taken in by the Mist, and my memories of this place and the people I've met might even change into something else."

"But you'd be alive," she says, even though it's selfish to want Jem to give up everything he's ever had—all because she can't bear the thought of losing him completely.

"Maybe I would survive for a while," he allows. "Or maybe Zeus would kill me the moment I left camp healthy and ready to lead a long life."

"But he can't blame you for what Hera did."

"I'm a reminder to him and everyone else that he has an unfaithful queen. I'm alive because he lets me live, and he wants everyone on Mt. Olympus to know that."

**/ - \\ / - \\ / - \\ / - \\ / - \\**

It's two nights before the end of summer. The majority of campers will be heading home to start the fall semester of their mortal schools. Tessa doesn't think she has a home to return to. A part of her wants to find Nate, and see if he's changed. It's been three months, and maybe he's realized how wrong he was. Maybe he's sorry. Another part of her knows that Chiron is right: her brother cannot be trusted as a guardian. So she'll be staying in Camp Half-Blood.

Tessa admits to Jem that she's glad she doesn't have to leave.

"I'd only want to go if I could take you with me."

He grins down at her, his skin flushed where Tessa has left a multitude of nips and kisses. The hand he has beneath her tank top caresses her ribs. "Someday I'll take you up on that offer."

She considers his discarded shirt hanging haphazardly off the fountain's ledge while her fingers find the dimples in the small of his back. "Do you mean it?"

His mouth moves against her neck. "Yes. I want to see the world with you."

"I want that, too." She tugs at his hips until the weight of his body rests against her. Jem is tall and wiry, and she likes tangling her limbs with his until it seems impossible that they could be separated. She likes how permanent it feels.

"All this time I've been waiting." His fingertips find the back of her knee, where he traces patterns that make her shiver. "I thought I was waiting for death,"—he hikes her leg up around his hip—"but really, I was waiting for you."

Her top has ridden up, and Jem's stomach presses against hers in a way that makes her senses spin. She lifts her chin and catches a kiss—then a second, and a third that doesn't seem to have an end. All the while, her hands seek purchase in Jem's hair. The fine strands slips between her fingers. When she reaches the sensitive curve of his ears, he makes a low, pleased sound she feels against her chest.

He sucks on her lip in retaliation.

Tessa's hands travel to his shoulders and down his back. When she encounters the waistband of his jeans, she follows it around to the front, slipping a hand between their bodies and finding the button. The zipper follows easily enough.

"Tessa." Jem stops kissing her.

"Yes?"

She knows he wants her. She knows he's wanted her before, but that he's always stopped himself. This is the closest they've been, and she doesn't want to push.

"Is this okay?" she asks, and slips a hand past denim and cotton.

Jem's body tightens and then relaxes above her. Tessa watches closely as his eyes fall closed. "That's…yes. More than okay." He mutters a phrase in ancient Greek. "But, Tessa, I don't think we should—"

"Shhh," she quiets him. "It's alright."

His thumb strokes her collar bone in time with his breathing, and it isn't long before both are lost to an urgent irregularity. Jem's hips jerk down against her. A moment later, the rest of his body seems to cave in, and he exhales shakily while dropping his forehead to her chest.

"By the gods," he murmurs.

Tessa smiles and pushes his sweaty bangs back from his face. "So that was good then."

He lifts his head to look at her. "'Good' isn't the right word. It was…you are…"—he smiles helplessly—"perfect."

Tessa experiences a rush of affection and satisfaction. She isn't experienced with this. She's never had a boyfriend before Jem, and she's never been physically intimate with anyone. But Jem makes it easy. When he looks at her the way he's looking at her now, she forgets to be nervous. She stops worrying about what she _should_ be doing and just does what feels right. Even when they're clumsy, it's _good_.

She gently prods his shoulder. "What were you saying?"

He stares back at her in confusion.

"When I, ah…interrupted you a moment ago." Tessa blushes. So does Jem. "You were saying, 'I don't think we should…"

"Oh." Jem's voice changes. He sounds hesitant. She feels him shifting to lie beside her on the grass. "I was just going to say that I don't think we should…that our first time shouldn't be here, now, on the ground. I would like it if, the first time we make love, it happens somewhere without mosquitoes…or wood nymphs. Preferably in a bed."

Tessa smiles at the phrase 'make love.' Most of the boys around here wouldn't think of it that way—let alone say it out loud. But most boys at camp aren't Jem.

"I would also like it to happen on a night that's special for us." Jem pauses, taking a deep breath. "Maybe on our wedding night."

"You want to wait for marriage?"

Tessa regrets not keeping the surprise out of her voice. Jem turns away and rolls onto his back. Somehow, she hears him sigh over the pounding of her heart. "It's stupid, I know. She doesn't even want me…"

_She doesn't even want me._

Of course. Hera. The goddess of marriage. And Jem's mother.

Tessa turns over, propping herself up on her elbows. "It isn't stupid," she says fiercely. She wishes she knew which words would make him realize his significance can't be measured by the love of a deity who's never looked him in the eye and who will never understand that humanity is a gift and not a punishment. Tessa thinks that if only he could look at the moon without feeling small, he wouldn't need to look at the moon all.

Gently, she lifts a hand and traces the profile of Jem's face in the dark. "I don't mind waiting."

Jem looks at her then. His mouth grazes the tips of her fingers, and she feels his breath catch. Neither of them misses the significance of what she's just said—the promise inside a promise. And maybe they should say something. But Jem reaches for her, and they there are enough words—Greek or otherwise—to express what passes between them that night.

**/ - \\ / - \\ / - \\ / - \\ / - \\**

"Will."

"Tessa."

"Will, I—" She stops in the middle of the cabin and regards him, lying comfortably sprawled on the top bunk of a bed—one of the many vacated after the mass exodus of campers that day. "You're reading one of my books!"

"Yes." He turns a page. "It's disgustingly melodramatic, but I'm hoping this Jacob fellow will punch Edward in the face. He needs to be punched in the face."

"That's not important. I need to ask you—"

"Does _anyone_ get punched in the face? Does anything exciting happen in this book at all?"

"No, it ends without a fight, and they all go home as great friends."

The book closes with a _snap_. Will tosses it on to the bunk below. "Complete rubbish."

"Will, we have to do something to help Jem. He's only getting worse, and I'm not going to sit around waiting for him to die."

Will slides off the bed and drops to his feet. "Then that makes two of us."

"Yes, but you're leaving, and—"

"No, I'm not."

"You're not?" Tessa looks over at the corner where Will usually keeps his things and notices that it is, in fact, as messy and cramped with things as it usually is. "But what about going home to Wales? To see your family?"

"Jem is my family."

It's the most serious Tessa has ever heard Will sound. There's no sarcasm. No follow-up joke. And he's looking her square in the eye.

"We won't find a cure sitting around here playing bad mitten with the satyrs," he continues. "We're going to have to leave Camp Half-Blood."

"And go where?" Tessa crosses to where her sleeping bag and backpack are propped against the wall. Beside them is the stack of old, yellowed texts Chiron had given her to look though. "I can't find anything that even _mentions_ a poison like the one Hecate gave to Hera. I've made Jem drink a dozen tonics, and none of them have worked."

She knows Will is well aware of this. He began looking for a cure years before Tessa ever arrived at camp.

"There's one source neither of has consulted."

Tessa whirls around. "What?"

Will shoves his hands in his pockets and jerks his head toward the window. Through it, Tessa can see the rooftop of the Big House. "The Oracle."

The name sounds familiar. Tessa has heard it mentioned by campers before. But she thought it was just a ghost story people mentioned around the campfire. "Are you saying there really is an old seer who lives in the attic of the Big House?"

"Of course. And she isn't just some 'old seer.' She's the real thing. She knows the future. She knows everything."

Tessa stares at him, incredulous. "Then why haven't you gone to her about Jem?"

Will looks annoyed. "Well, it _is_ strictly forbidden unless you have a quest."

"Since when have the rules ever stopped you?"

His shoulders rise and fall in heavy shrug as if in an attempt to dislodge some unwanted thought or memory. "I saw the Oracle once. It was my first summer here. It was before I knew about Jem's illness and before I really believed that I was the son of some god. I snuck into the Big House because an older kid dared me to. I was eight."

The lowness of his voice makes Tessa glad that they're alone. She gets the sense that he is telling her something very private.

"She told me something about myself. Something terrible about my future." His blue eyes slide to Tessa, and she feels pinned by them, as if the force of his gaze alone could steal all movement from her body. "And she warned me about you."

"Me?"

"She said—" But Will stops himself with a shake of his head. He smiles but doesn't look happy. "It doesn't matter," he says. "What matters is that I can't go back. I've seen my fate."

His gaze moves away, and Tessa immediately relaxes. Air returns to her lungs and the floor is once again firm beneath her feet. "I'll have to go to her, then."

Will nods and moves to the cabin door. "If you're brave enough to face a future you can't change."

**/ - \\ / - \\ / - \\ / - \\ / - \\**

Tessa's hands shake as she descends the attic steps. It's dark and her eyes are still full of the vision she just witnessed. Only a white-knuckled grip on the banister keeps her from toppling head-over-feet down the stairwell. The Oracle's words are a constant roar in her ears. In her heart, Tessa knows that they're real—a prophecy that tastes like copper on her tongue.

As she pushes open the back door of the Big House, her legs shake and her heart pounds like an oncoming storm in her chest. Her feet hit grass, and Will is suddenly at her side.

"Tessa? Did it work? You saw her, didn't you? What did she say?"

Tessa squeezes his arm and blinks away the ghostly images until she can see his face. "I know where we have to go."

Will's mouth opens.

She shakes her head. "We need to leave tonight. Now. We need to pack—"

"And where are we going?"

Both Will and Tessa freeze mid-step. Just ahead of them, in the shadow of the porch, Jem is walking toward them, his cane in one hand. He isn't dressed for bed. He looks at them knowingly.

"I should have known you two would eventually join forces," he comments casually. "Only Mount Olympus could match your combined stubbornness."

Will crosses his arms. "Always with the compliments. It's why we're such good friends."

"Jem,"—Tessa approaches him slowly—"I've seen it. I know how to cure you."

Jem's eyes widen in surprise. He looks from Tessa to Will and back again. He looks cautious, as if he's afraid to be hopeful. "What do you mean?"

"There's someone we need to find. He can help us get a cure. You won't have to take the nectar and ambrosia anymore."

She can feel Will beside her, buzzing with the same electric energy shooting through Tessa's veins. She looks into Jem's eyes and silently begs him to believe the impossible.

"This is it," Will says. "This is the chance we've been looking for. It's real."

Jem looks stunned. "And you'd have to go find him? This person who can help?"

"Yes."

Jem's eyes are the brightest she's ever seen them. As he steps toward her and closes the distance between them, she realizes it's because they're full of wonder. He takes her hands in his. "You said you wouldn't want to leave—"

"Unless I could take you with me," Tessa finishes with a nod. "I know. And I haven't changed my mind." She laces her fingers between his, pushes up onto her toes, and presses her cheek against his. "So are we going?"

His arms wrap around her, and a moment later, she's lifted off the ground and spun in a breathless circle. She knows from the laughter in her ear that the answer is 'Yes.'

**- fin -**


End file.
